Title: Koji ma Oshi
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
Warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW, edge of dubcon
Pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Disclaimer: No, don't own 'em... Hey! A sigh of relief from Bandai!
Archived: sweetlysour, gwaddiction, Kracken's GW Site, and here.
Critiques: loved almost as much as chocolate
previous chapters: ch19 / ch20 / ch21 / ch22 / ch23 / ch24
I don't know how long we stood there, but it couldn't have been too long because
I'm pretty sure I was holding my breath the entire time. I couldn't exhale
until Heero finally relaxed, just the tiniest fraction in his shoulders.
He reached behind him, clicked off the light in that other room, and pulled
the door shut behind him. I was left in darkness, with only the after-image
of Heero's silhouette on my retinas.
"Okay," I said, tempted to clear my throat and try again. I swallowed hard instead, and barreled on. I couldn't feel any movement from him after the slight draft of the door shutting. It took work to steady my voice for the confidence I wasn't feeling at all. "This is where we talk safe—"
"No."
"What?" I blinked and nearly skittered to the side when a finger landed on my arm, slid sideways, caught a lock of my hair and tugged a little. This was worse than a fucking blindfold, because at least then I'd have an excuse. I buried it all in annoyance, with a bit of teasing to lighten things. "Very funny, Yuy. Just because you—"
"That's your safeword." Heero sounded amused, and he tugged on my hair again, but not hard. Like he was testing it, playing with it. I wondered what he was doing with it, but I'd be damned if I'd admit G hadn't fucked with my eyes the way I was starting to bet Heero's eyes had been fucked with.
"What is? Because?" Or maybe... I snorted. "Don't tell me it's Yuy. That's—"
"No." Heero tugged on my hair again, sharper, and I instinctively batted his hand out of the way. He caught my wrist, fingers curling loosely, and I took a deep breath to get over the automatic reaction of breaking his hold. Mostly because if he wanted, he could probably break my wrist without any effort, but if he'd not gone that far already, I doubted he'd go that far now. Least, I hoped not, but I forgot that worry fast enough when he clarified, "That's your safeword. No."
"No? What kind of bullshit is that?" I jerked on my hand and he yanked it back, forcefully enough to pull me forward a half-step. I leaned away from him, refusing to give in until we had this conversation out. "That's not—"
"No. That's it," Heero said, cutting me off again.
It wasn't really like him to not give me room to talk, and between that and the slightest tremor in his fingers against my wrist, I knew he wasn't entirely unaffected, or nearly as easy-going about all this as I might've thought. If I hadn't known him half as well as I did, or as well as I thought I had, before all this went down. He pulled again, and I took another half-step, surprised when I didn't come up against him. I hadn't thought we were that far apart.
"The point of a safeword is to let you pretend this is all against your will, without it actually being against your will." His voice came from behind me, his breath stirring the hairs lying against my upper arm. "That's the fantasy. I'm not interested in that fantasy."
Damn fucking bastard, I bet J did do something to his eyes, and since when could Heero move that silently? I was the master of that art. He let go of my arm and caught up my hair, stroking it between his fingers. I couldn't hide the smile, to find he had a hair-fetish, or maybe he was just fascinated with it since it wasn't like I had a habit of letting anyone play with it.
"If you say no, then it all stops," Heero continued, implacable. He let go of my hair, and I couldn't stop the shiver when it brushed coolly against my ass — or the sudden thought that maybe a haircut wouldn't be so bad. Just a trim, especially if Heero decided this was going to be a regular thing. A touch of a fingertip across my hip and I realized Heero'd been waiting for a reply. Right, words. I could do that.
"Stops," I repeated, a little on the dull side, mostly because I was still catching up with my own thoughts. Did I want this to be a regular thing? Absolutely-like-fucking-hell not. No way in space. This was a one-timer. But the way he'd said 'stops'... there was a finality in there I didn't like.
"You walk out that door, and I walk out this one." His hands came down on my shoulders, ran down my arms, slipped around my wrists, and the next thing I knew he was locking a brace around one wrist, then around the other.
"But..." I spared a half-second to be impressed at the sleight of hand. That took some practice, not just to catch me off-guard, but to be so silent at it. Then again, I was kinda focused on his bizarre instructions. And being stark naked, even if it was pitch-dark in there. Having my hair down was probably helping the least of all. "So, stops-stops."
"If you tell me to wait, then I'll pause for you to catch your breath, and you may explain why you want me to pause."
I'm sure my voice sounded strangled. "You expect me to talk?" I was halfway tempted to laugh. Yeah, so I wasn't the master of all I surveyed when it came to years in the scene, but I'd yet to see a sub coherent mid-scene. Not that I was a sub, myself, of course. It was just the theory of it.
"Yes, I do. If I agree, I'll adjust. If I don't, I'll keep going."
"What's the point of that?" I flexed my wrists, testing the feel, trying to figure out if I knew the design.
If I bent my wrist hard and twisted my hand just enough, I could get my pinky to brush the barest edge of the wrist-restraint, and could feel a raised ridge of stitched leather. That narrowed it down to one of three styles, unless Heero had had these custom-made. I hoped not, because I'd hate if I'd spent that much money and someone slipped free too easily.
Heero's hands wrapped around mine, intertwining our fingers together, and then he turned me around, leading with gentle tugs. A full circle, then a little more, then back again, and I let him. I had a pretty good sense of direction no matter how many amateur's tricks he pulled on me like that. Besides, after the second or third back-then-forth, it was almost like dancing. He even rested his chin on my shoulder.
"If you need a pause, you can have one," Heero repeated, patiently, words timed and pitched like beats matching our footsteps. "But you cannot end the scene before I say so, except to end everything. Until then, you don't get to pretend that you don't want to be here or that you're doing any of this against your will."
"Fine, fine, I got it," I said... and then, when he slid a blindfold over my eyes, I realized: I didn't have the least idea which direction I was pointing in. He could have me walking into the wall next and I'd have no idea. I wasn't that stressed about how the fucker managed such things, because I knew a few of those tricks myself. I just couldn't figure out how I could know the same tricks and yet have no defenses against him using them on me. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work.
"Move, Duo," Heero whispered, this time from in front of me, both my hands in his again. I resisted and he squeezed my fingers, gently, but the bastard still sounded just the tiniest bit amused. "I won't let you walk into anything."
"Oh, yeah? I'm sure you're planning all—" At which point I did walk into something. Heero. I didn't quite recoil but I did tense, and it was already too late. His hand slipped around my waist, pulling me into him. Not that I minded, just I would've liked some warning. "Hey, don't be—"
"Duo," Heero said, lips brushing the underside of my jaw, up to the corner of my mouth. "For once, just shut up."
"What's that—" Anything else got swallowed by his mouth, then his tongue ran across the inside of my lips. I'm not proud; I think I might've moaned, just a little.
His lips curved against mine, a challenge if I ever felt one, and I pushed back at his tongue with mine, then gave way only long enough to let his tongue back into my mouth — where I caught it between my teeth, biting gently. Heero made a quiet, needy kind of sound through the kiss, and instantly I was hard like there'd been no intermission at all. I sucked on the tip of his tongue and he broke away with a gasp. His chest was against mine, the leather of his pants cool and sleek against my cock. I ground my hips into his, bent forward, seeking his lips again. I wanted more.
"Duo," he repeated.
I couldn't find his mouth, but I wasn't going to keep leaning until we fell over in a tangle of ungraceful limbs. "What," I said, annoyed, trying to decipher the feel of his body against mine. Only way to determine the best direction to make another blind attempt. Why had I signed up for this, again? And just as fast, I told myself to shut up, that time. I knew why I did... mostly. And I was pretty sure I was right to do so, but still.
"Behave," he muttered, and caught my wrists again, pulling away from me to lead me another three or four steps. I huffed and he simply sighed, "Let me do this."
Maybe I'm an idiot like that, but something in me perked up at that. Let me. That wasn't the phrasing of a dominant, not to my mind. A contrary part of me wanted to wag its contrary little tail at the idea that I probably could turn things around if I wanted to. Show him exactly which of us was boss. He halted me, one hand on my chest, the other on my wrist, then suddenly something hard popped me in the forehead.
"Ow!" I reached up to rub the spot, but he caught my hand, holding it away. I was reduced to wrinkling my forehead like that'd help somehow. "What the fuck was that for?"
"Because you're thinking again." A cold click of steel, and he let go of one hand. A second click, and he moved away.
"I'm always thinking." I couldn't help it, between his words and the wild thought that I hadn't had enough warning, that I was about to be locked into a zero-sum war in which the only alternative to losing myself would be losing him. "Hold on, you don't really expect—"
"You want me to wait? Why?"
"What? That's not what I meant." I don't even know where his voice came from. Somewhere to my right and behind me. Then a hand landed on my shoulder, and a split-second later a foot knocked against the back of my knees.
"Kneel."
I landed heavily on my knees — fortunately discovering a thick padded cushion awaited me — but feeling rather undignified all the same. I might've even yelped, but I'd say anyone would if they got the Heero-treatment for undiplomatic physical rearrangments.
"What did you mean, then?"
My wrists came up, silently, hoisted by the restraints. Must be rope. Damn it, chain was a lot easier to slip free from. It was also a lot easier for Heero to break, so I wasn't surprised he didn't use chains. The chances of me ever breaking a chain were about as good as me and Wufei becoming bowling buddies, but that was Heero through and through. He never was one to undo a knot if he could just cut it, so he was always caught off-guard by the reminder there were other ways to slip free, and as long as I didn't hold a knife, he'd assume he was safe.
I filed that reassurance away and tried to focus on what he was doing by my feet. Two more restraints, one at each ankle, and then what felt like one of the spreader bars pushing my ankles wider. I had to resettle on the cushion, but not too much, so at least Heero wasn't going to mess up my knees enough that it'd take a week to recover. Thoughtful of him.
"You're doing it again," Heero whispered, and licked up the side of my neck.
"I'm—whoa!" Startled, I leaned to the side, but could barely get any room at all. My arms were raised and another set of clicks told me he'd put a spreader bar between my wrists. That and the spreader bar between my ankles, and altogether I didn't have nearly as much slack as I'd been expecting. Where was my brain going? More like, when was the blood going to unrush from my cock so I could actually think clearly again?
The cushion shifted under me and the faint creak of leather told me Heero'd knelt before me. His lips grazed my shoulder, and this time I was ready for it when he ran his tongue up the underside of my arm. He kissed the inside of my elbow, just as one hand landed on my chest, thumb brushing back and forth across my nipple. His other hand brushed up my thigh and back down again.
Shifting my weight a little only made the metal bars jangle above and below me, and it didn't get his hand any close to my dick. Bastard was probably doing that on purpose. It's what I'd do, at least — and just as I had settled on that bit of wisdom, he shocked the hell out of me by wrapping his hand right around my cock.
I didn't bother trying to swallow the gasp, and I didn't have much leeway but I could thrust my hips just enough to let him know I wanted more. He squeezed, gently for all the power in his hands, then gave a long slow pull, and I know I saw stars on the inside of the blindfold. He kissed his way back down to my neck, nosing my hair out of the way. I groaned, not one to complain for getting what I wanted, even if it did set off warning bells elsewhere in my head. The rest of me was busy telling that still-coherent part to take a flying leap.
He pinched my nipple, hard enough to make me bite back a complaint, pressed his palm against my chest, burying the sting under the heat of his hand. His fingers drifted down my stomach, the sensation competing with the feel of his tongue and lips against my skin. He bit, softly, right below my ear, moved his roaming hand away, and tightened his grip on my cock. I could track the movements, barely, but didn't care. I adored it when someone got that spot high on my neck, and I wondered when Heero'd figured that out. I bent my head to the side, giving him better access, but he pulled away.
"Hey," I complained, half-heartedly. "You don't have to—"
It wasn't the tiny click that alerted me. It was the sudden touch of cold metal right at the base of my cock, and a split-second later its full embrace all the way around and then came the tiniest click. The bastard had a cock-ring on me. I wasn't stupid enough to squirm against the grip he had on my cock-head, seeing how I'm pretty partial to that part of my anatomy, but I wasn't going to sit there and take it.
I settled for demanding, "what the fuck are you doing?"
Heero's reply might be dryly amused, or might be just his preferred flat-affect. "I don't believe you don't know what this is." I decided to go with the latter, rather than be insulted by his peculiar humor.
Okay, so on second thought, it looked like I was going to kneel there and take it.
Bastard, I wanted to say, but he kissed me again, and that was good enough for me. His kisses were always powerful, intense, but now I could sense a steadiness to his actions, a certainty. I'd never say I was the still one of the two of us, but his tongue was like water over a rock, not pushy but never losing ground. I let him have that ground, too, bemused by this side of him I couldn't recall ever seeing. Then a second band of metal wrapped around my cock, another click, and this time there was a definite tightness. Heero's grip on me was too unpredictable, somehow, so I wasn't much more than half-hard — and I wasn't sure I wanted to get much harder if I could already feel the pinch.
"Not so tight, I'm—"
"Do you like this?" His whisper sent hot breath across my ear, stirring the little hairs on my neck. He breathed out, again, silent, but I could feel him waiting, his hand gripping my cock too loosely compared to the too-tight rings. The first was at the base, and the second felt like maybe an inch up.
Oh, fuck, if he was putting the gates of hell on me, I was going to wipe the floor with his ass when this was all done. I hate those damn things, making a perfectly normal-looking cock into some kind of bizarre refugee from a bad historical drama. All buckles and black leather and shades of the man in the Iron Mask, or maybe it was the Lady in the Iron Mask, whatever. Some crazy-ass religious torture instrument, and I should know, I attended parochial school at the orphanage.
"Duo," Heero prompted.
I frowned at him, back-tracking my thoughts. "Like—" Another cool metallic kiss, another click. Three! The bastard. "Stop that, damn it, one's enough!"
"Not yet." He licked up the edge of my ear, and ran his hands up my chest to pluck at my nipples. "Answer the question. Do you like this." He sounded amused, enough husk in his voice to tell me he was turned-on by it, but there was a flatness in the question, too. It really wasn't much of a question.
It was a test.
"I don't don't like it," I finally said. I didn't even bother hiding the uncertainty. I didn't want him to take that as me saying no, but I just couldn't quite say yes. Not with my dick starting to throb unnaturally, or the way my chest felt like two pinpricks of fire from his fingernails suddenly digging in, then releasing.
Heero chuckled against my throat, and his hands moved down to rest on my hips, pulling me just enough into him. He shifted, and my cock came to rest between his thighs. When he pressed in closer, I could feel the ridge of his erection against my lower belly, wrapped in cool leather. It was a bizarre sensation, but all the same, my cock stiffened.
"Oh, god," I groaned, as he closed his legs around my dick. He ground into me, his body against mine from knee to hip, but his upper body out of my reach. His movements sent shots of fire up my spine. "Oh, fuck..."
"Is this perverted," he asked, and again it wasn't a question. More like just waiting for me to affirm the truth. His tone brought me down, some, just enough to help me find the words.
"Yeah, hell yeah," I managed, trying to push against him, pull back, feel the drag of the leather seams against my cock. I had no idea his thighs could squeeze me even tighter than the cock rings. "Oh, yeah," I moaned along with the outswing, "fuck, that's—"
The outswing had pulled me all the way free, or maybe he'd just moved back fast enough I hadn't had time to process it, and then another flick of metal, a click, and I knew a third ring now embraced my shaft. It was tight, damn it, but the other two weren't exactly loose, either. I could barely hear Heero's soft amusement, because my own instincts kicked in and I thrashed for a second, making the bar over my head clatter loudly.
"Take it off, damn it," I complained. "It's too tight, you're fucking killing me here!"
"No, it's not, and I'm not. Concentrate, Duo." Heero's lips landed on my chest and he sucked ferociously at one of my nipples until I nearly whined at the sting. He pulled away, licked once, and breathed upon my wet skin, "you get off on this."
"N—" I caught the denial and shifted mid-word. If I even whispered no, would he consider that just cause? I wasn't willing to take the risk. "Not when I'm the one it's getting done to."
"Always a dom."
"Well, yeah. I like being the dom."
"Even if that means being perverted?" His fingers drew unfamiliar shapes on my belly.
"Yeah..." My cock jerked each time I twitched, reminding me all over again he was three-quarters of his way through a medieval torture device. On me. For some reason, my recalcitrant cock got even harder at the thought. "But that doesn't mean it's bad," I allowed, or maybe I was too busy breathing against the feel of his fingers stroking down my shaft, rubbing across the head of my cock, enough touch to make me want to whine in my throat, not enough to do more than tease. "You get off on this, too," I challenged.
His hand remained on my shoulder, enough pressure from his fingertips that I suspected I was his balance-point as he came to his feet. I could hear a soft brushing sound, with dull pops, and braced myself — only to open my mouth and suddenly something firm, round, and damp was pressed against my lower lip. I could taste salt, smell the tang that was unmistakably Heero. I required no encouragement to open further and suck his cock into my mouth.
Maybe it's never really been my favorite thing, but Heero's soft groan suddenly shot the act right up to the top five. He rocked forward, and his cock slid in, and I sucked furiously as he slowly withdrew. His groan wasn't so soft anymore, but a desperate kind of sound. I immediately promoted the act to being in my top three favorites, right after him sucking my dick, and seeing my dick sink into his ass. But with the sounds he was making, not even trying to be quiet, it was almost too much, and I pushed my tongue up against the underside of his cock, undulating it. Something in my chest quivered when he reacted with a startled cry and his hands landed on my shoulders, then clasped my neck, gripping hard.
I was almost completely still, able only to draw on what I could, while his thrusts grew stronger, his moans louder. I made a note that when we got home, I'd pitch every gag, and kick myself as well for ever depriving myself of the sounds he could make. He paused. I nearly whimpered at the thought he'd deprive me of hearing him come. Even around a gag it was always a beautiful sound.
"I get off on everything you do," Heero whispered, hoarse, and pulled away. I let him go, but kept my mouth open, certain he'd let me finish him off. My own dick was forgotten, my fingers grasping helplessly at air in some instinctive attempt to pull him back. He groaned again, deeper, and I stilled, hearing the slap of his hand. His other hand landed on my head, brushing hair off my face, and I could feel in the radiating pressure of his hand that he was again using me for balance — and the rest of him was absorbed in jacking himself off.
And I couldn't even see a goddamn thing. Bastard!
"You get off on this," Heero said, again, but the sounds never faltered. His breathing caught, hitching, and the sound sped up. He was getting closer, zeroing down into that last sprint to the finish, and now I could barely hear anything but the wet slap of his fist against his pubic bone.
"Goddamnit, fuck you, okay, yes," I spat, and arched forward, mouth opening wide. "Don't fucking make me just sit here." No, that wasn't what I wanted to say. I tried again, angrier with the growing frustration. "Don't leave me out!"
"You want this?" He paused, and his cockhead rubbed against my lips. I started, but didn't move away, opening my mouth wider just as he pulled back. "How much do you want this?"
I was about to give him a flippant response, certain a bit of charm and I could talk him into it, and caught myself again. It felt like walking through a minefield, if between landmines I could find bliss. I don't know if it's what he really meant, or if he was just teasing me, but something in my head translated all the same.
Does this matter to you?
"Yes," I choked out, unable to hide the anger, though which of us had me angry I wasn't really sure. I just wanted, but talking reminded me of the me doing the wanting. Maybe that had me most frustrated of all. "Yes, fuck, whatever you want—" and the last word slipped out unplanned— "please."
His fingers ran down my cheek, cupped my chin, thumb pulling at the edge of my mouth. "I'll give you a choice, then. You can listen, or I'll give you what you want, and I'll take what I want. Five, at least." Something cool and supple brushed my shoulder. It was a hint, but one I couldn't read fast enough.
"Depends on what kind of five we're talking."
"You'd rather it be more? Ten? Fifteen?" His finger pulled harder, distorting my mouth.
When his thumb slipped into my mouth, I sucked furiously. Better than speaking and giving him reason to raise the stakes. I had a pretty fair impression of my own cock, but even I had to admit that honestly I doubted it could take ten rings, let alone five more. I guess it didn't matter, because he pulled his thumb free with a groan.
For a second he wasn't touching me at all, and I frowned, fingers grasping, body arching, not sure where he'd come at me. I could only tell he remained on the cushion, but I couldn't hear a sound. Okay, so I couldn't hear much of anything over my own breathing and the rushing sound of my heartbeat in my ears.
His left hand returned to my neck, cupped my face, pulled my chin down, and I let him guide his cock back into my mouth. I suctioned hard, pushing the tip of my tongue up against the underside of his cock-head, and was rewarded with a sharp moan. He thrust in, a little, out, in again, silent, breathing harsh. When he spoke, he sounded almost out-of-breath, which I considered a victory in itself.
"I feel teeth, you'll regret it," he warned.
If I hadn't had his dick so far into my mouth it was tickling my tonsils, I would've probably given him a smart-ass answer. If I'd not been blind-folded, I certainly would've rolled my eyes. Did he think I was some fucking kid without a—
A quick whistle and something small and flat popped, hard, on the upper curve of my ass. I nearly jumped out of my skin. At the last second I yanked my mouth back open, and Heero chuckled. I pushed up with my tongue as he thrust, and he groaned in appreciation — while my brain was working overtime to recall whether I should expect five, or ten. What had he decided?
He thrust in again, and halfway on the out-stroke he got me on the other ass-cheek. I struggled to keep from chomping down on a yell and on his dick at the same time. Staying relaxed when I was anything but, how the fuck did subs do this regularly? The quick snaps weren't as hard as I'd thought at first. The crop, maybe, and I spared a second to be impressed with his aim given everything else going on. Then I realized that meant he wasn't nearly as focused on what I was doing, and I found that almost insulting. I redoubled my efforts.
Again on the out-stroke, he got me on the ass, a little below the first strike. It wasn't quite as harsh as being popped in the bare ass with a wet towel, but it got my attention just the same. Between the way his cock filled my mouth, not seeing a thing, the three cock rings, and the growing number of spoon-sized hot marks on my ass, rational thoughts were slipping away from me, so it took me awhile to realize we'd passed five and the strikes had grown regular, one each time he pulled back.
I wanted a break, a moment to figure out why, to figure out what my goal would be if I did that kind of combination, but then another quick bite of the crop against my unguarded ass and all thoughts went zipping back out again. I whined deep in my throat, unwilling to risk grinding teeth into his flesh, and went for it, exhaling through my nose right as he got me again, this time on the underside of my ass where the skin is most sensitive. When his cock slid all the way into my mouth, I pushed my head forward until my nose rested against bare skin. The tiniest tickle against my nose told me his hair was growing back in, but I didn't smile. I sucked, and I sucked hard.
Heero cried out, hand gripping my head, palm across my ear, fingers tangled in my hair. His thrusts grew faster, shorter, and the crop's snaps became erratic, then stopped completely. He froze, buried balls-deep in my mouth, a groan ripped from his gut. With my nose against his skin, I could feel the shudder moving through him. I did smile, then, even if my cock was weeping madly and I wanted to jerk my own hips against any surface I could find, just to relieve the pressure. He withdrew, slowly — and took long enough to get me seven times with the crop, alternating ass-cheeks.
It was a muffled yell I gave, but at least I didn't bite down. I sure as fuck wanted to, though. Sneaky bastard, changing the rules mid-stream. Or mid-blow, as it were. A slight thump from a few feet away alerted me that he'd tossed the crop aside, and only then did he pull the rest of the way out. My jaw ached, my mouth and tongue felt bruised. I licked my lips, and he kissed me, tongue sweeping across mine. I gasped when he pulled away, and then again, louder, as he snapped yet another cock-ring around me.
"Hey, three was plenty," I protested, and wasn't sure I liked the sound of his soft laughter.
"You're larger than you give yourself credit for," he replied, and tugged once on my engorged shaft, ignoring the jerk of my hips. Fuck, it stung, not like a pinch but a solid pressure I couldn't ignore. "But you're right, that's enough. I promised five, though."
"You promised five on the blow-job, too. I don't think J taught you to count very well," I grumbled, and was about to add something equally witty when my brain blanked out at unexpected pressure around my balls. "What the—" I struggled, and he popped me lightly on the head of my cock. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make me go very still while I let the unexpected sharpness run through me and fade. Not fast enough, but it did ease after a second. The tightness around the base of my balls didn't, though. "Did you put a goddamn stretcher on me?"
"Never felt this before, have you?"
"Sure—" I froze, then let my head fall back. My hair slid from the side where he'd pulled it out of the way, and fell back over my stinging ass. "Fine, no, not like that. Not that tight."
"You probably weren't hard at the time, then."
"Why the—" I thought twice, for what was probably the twentieth time, and shut up. Maybe I needed to just shut up before I'd even gotten started. Heero tugged on my balls, drawing them even farther away from my body, and the little corset-like wrap grew snugger. He'd adjusted it, the fucker. "It was fine before," I muttered.
"I'll decide if that's so," was all Heero said.
I wriggled my fingers. Heero clasped my hands and squeezed once, and then moved away without a word, back to whatever nefarious next step he had in mind.
I didn't bother distracting him, momentarily startled by something else entirely. Heero'd as good as told me once that he had no real drive to be a dominant. Yet I wasn't surprised he was a thorough and conscientious dominant, even if the role was contrary to his nature. Everything I'd done, I began because I felt drawn to it, so success came pretty easy. I was already just doing what I loved, anyway. Doing it well didn't seem to require any major effort.
Maybe Heero's versatility, his ability to be pretty damn good at just about anything, was because he'd spent most of his life forced to go against his own grain. I wasn't sure whether to feel pity or pride about that. Probably didn't matter anyway, knowing Heero, since I doubted he'd care one way or the other what anyone else thought. Unlike me, of course. The day I stopped caring, I'd be dead. No, on second thought, plenty of times I'd not cared. I'd just never been able to stifle my curiosity. Just because I didn't care what was in the box didn't mean I didn't want to know anyway.
Hey, it made sense to me, and it kept my mind off all the squeezing-pinching complaints coming from my groin. Until Heero started in on my chest, and I knew the little break-time was over.
Heero let go of my left nipple, speaking almost conversationally. "Have you ever taken someone's words for granted?" He pinched again with colder fingers, but it was too precise a squeeze and I realized he'd clamped me again. I groaned, and he chuckled, one hand resting on my waist while something rustled near my knee. A second later the pinch grew into a dragging sensation, and something thumped lightly on my chest.
"Goddamnit, tell me you're kidding." I twisted in place like I could move myself out of his reach. "Not fucking weights!"
He was silent, though his hand stayed on me. The instant the dangling weight swung with my move before gravity pulled it back, I realized my mistake -- and sure enough, when that weight thumped back down again, the drag felt twice as bad. My nipple throbbed. My entire chest seemed to ache a little in sympathy. Heero said nothing, fortunately, letting me get over my own stupidity with the added humiliation of being his entertainment.
I settled back down, but didn't bother to hide my frown. I hate nipple clamps, but I hate weighted clamps even more. Bastard. I had a sudden flash of doom-filled curiosity as to whether Heero was guessing at my personal dislikes by cataloging what I'd never done to him. On the plus side, that meant he wasn't likely to wax me up and remove all my hair. I hoped. I guess that put a twisted kind of smile on my face, because Heero paused with a finger on my chest, probably preparing a second clamp.
"What," he asked, and sure enough, now both nipples were clamped.
I groaned through gritted teeth and considered brushing off his question. Or maybe not, seeing how I had no idea what he might be inspired to do if he thought I wasn't... being or doing whatever he wanted. I shrugged with just the barest movement I could manage, and still felt the pull of the clamps -- and then a weight added to the second clamp. Lovely. I made a quick mental note that I'd be wiping the floor with Heero's ass not later, but the instant I got out of those restraints.
"Just wondering how you knew I hate these fuckers," I admitted.
Heero said nothing, though his breathing changed just enough to make me think he wore that smug expression that went with his silent style of laughter. I hated it during the war, sometimes, but now, I hated more not being able to see it at all. Staring into the backs of my eyelids was disconcerting.
"Answer the question, Duo." He attached a second weight to each clamp. Maybe an ounce each from the size and shape, but it could've been a quarter-ounce each and I might've felt it just as much.
"I asked you first," I replied, not sure what he was talking about.
"You didn't ask a question at all," he said -- and his hands moved away, returned, and I struggled to keep from twisting away as his fingers brushed my chest and sure enough, a third weight was added to each clamp. "Changing the topic may not be lying but it's a type of omission," he warned.
"Okay, okay, I got it, stop with the weights, and tell me again, I'm just a little preoccupied here," I snapped. "Do I have to give you the laundry list to get it clear to you that I'm--" The rest of my words became an abrupt shout when Heero slapped me open-handed on the ass. It pushed me forward suddenly, but only so far before the restraints hit their limit and I was pulled back again.
If the deep sting wasn't enough to steal my breath, the return-thump of three weights doing a pendulum from each nipple almost pulled another cry from me. I choked on it, instead, and glared at the inside of the blindfold. Heero had let go, but now he put his hands on my hips, stroking -- but noticeably not stroking where he'd slapped. I could feel the entire hand print burned into my skin. Fucking bastard, didn't even have the decency to smooth the skin. Instead I was left hanging, muscles twitching with an insane need to rub up against something, relieve the burn that way. Nothing to rub up against, so all I could do was twitch -- and curse again when the weights swung back and forth with my movements.
"Have you ever," Heero asked, calmly, as if he didn't even notice me about to fly in ten different directions, "just taken it for granted when someone's told you something?"
"Well, of--" I stopped, frowned, thought it over. In general, no, I didn't like to, but that didn't mean I hadn't. Had I? A finger ran down my belly, swooped around my belly-button, and then brushed through the curls around my cock. I took it as a hint, especially when the hand then swept around my hip to scratch lightly on the slowly-fading hand-print burn. "Stop, stop," I said, "I'm working on it, it's just-- I'm sure I've taken someone's word for it, I mean, I had to with G when he said crazy stuff like barium chlorate is how you get green fireworks, not like I could test it myself stuck on some intercolony cruiser--"
"Green fireworks?"
"Yeah, there's all kinds of colors. It was one of G's many crazy hobbies. Copper oxychloride makes blue and copper benzoate makes blue-green, add some bismuth trioxide to make dragon--"
Heero's lips were suddenly against mine, and my last few words got muffled, then swept away by his tongue. He pulled back just as I started to respond, sweeping a finger over my mouth when I frowned at him. "Focus, Duo. If you'd been on earth and could've tested it, would you have?"
"Hell yeah," I replied, firmly. "Just because some old geezer-scientist--" I stopped, realized, and exhaled slowly. "Fine. I don't take someone's word for it, not if I can test it myself." I thought a bit more, heartened by the fact that Heero wasn't putting anything else on me. Maybe that was the end of that, or maybe his goal was to have me talk. Fine, then, I could talk, I'd talk all night if that got me out of the stupid clamps. "I mean, there are times I've had to just accept the explanation, like when I was a kid and the sisters tell you that kids have to drink milk to be strong, how are you going to prove them wrong?"
Heero laughed, fingers stroking up and down my arms. I shivered, and let my mouth run. Besides, his way of stopping me was to kiss me, it seemed, and that was a pretty good outcome in my book. Or maybe not, I realized, as my cock immediately hardened, just from the taste of his tongue against mine, and that made the squeeze of those goddamn cock-rings worse, and that in turn reminded me of the stretcher pushing my balls down into a tight package and flexing my gut to try and relieve both in turn meant my chest muscles tensed which made the clamp-weights swing which in turn pulled on my nipples and made even the barest brush of air from Heero's movements feel like a sharp-edged breeze right across my body...
Although as long as I managed to forget just how bad it would be when it all came off, if I just held still, it wasn't too bad. I could endure it for a little longer, I decided, and then Heero flicked the weights and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Goddamnit, don't do that!" I arched my back, even knowing it'd just make it all worse, and it did, enough for me to nearly bite my tongue trying to hold back a complaining cry when the weights thumped against my skin. A warm hand landed on my dick, cupping just the head.
I didn't even think, I thrust immediately because it felt so fucking good, but the pull on my balls and my nipples was too much, too many conflicting messages. Punishment tainting the reward.
Something in me snapped. I didn't want the pain, and if pleasure only came with pain then I didn't want either.
I snarled and threw myself full-strength against the restraints. The hand went away, Heero was silent, and I wanted out, suddenly and totally, so fiercely if I could've bitten through the leather, I would've. The spreader-bars clattered and banged and I got one knee forward, shifting my weight forcefully and every movement heightened and worsened by the leather and metal weighing me down, tearing me apart. I didn't even know where the rage and the panic came from. It just rose up out of nowhere and took over. All I could do was throw myself forward, fury growing exponentially at every yank because the goddamn restraints weren't giving way.
Until the fury burned itself into a cold core, and I'd still gotten nowhere. All I could do was slump, arms up, knees spread, and pant, not even sure I could tell anymore of the clamps were on. Everything part of me seemed to vibrate with every ragged breath.
I couldn't sense Heero at all, as if he'd abruptly disappeared. Not that I could blame him, but he wasn't exactly an innocent party in this. Even so, the mindless rage instantly vanished, replaced by fear. Had he left? I didn't think he would've, but withdrawing wasn't much better. Much worse to be with someone and know they're not really there, don't want to be there. He was too responsible to have left, but... that didn't change the fact that I didn't know where he was.
And I, I fucking ached. Outside, and inside, and I wasn't even sure what'd set me off. I wasn't even sure what direction I was looking in. All I could see was stark darkness.
Fingers landed on my shoulder, and I realized Heero was behind me. His hand slid down to press his palm against my shoulder. It slid sideways to my nape, resting for a heartbeat before it became a finger trailing down my spine. I tried to steady my breathing, couldn't, and rattled the chains in some kind of warning.
"Is this where it ends, Duo," Heero said, and again, it wasn't a question, but it was.
I wanted to say no, but stopped myself, uneasy. Instead I choked out, "I don't know what you mean."
"I meant what I said," he replied. "Is this where it ends."
"Not here," I managed, skirting around an automatic heartfelt no! -- because I'd been in that room once already. I was not going back.
Not to the white room with the lights on all the time, but even less to the room with my stuff, two knives, and a card that would carry me anywhere but the place I wanted to be. This wasn't where I wanted to be, either, but I had to get through this to get anywhere else. I knew that much, but still I jerked hard on my wrists, stopping just short of enough force to dislocate my thumbs. I just couldn't simply sit there and take it, even if I knew intellectually that was the only way out.
"Not like this," I said, when he didn't say anything. I took a deep breath, unable to bite down the groan when my chest rose and fell and my nipples throbbed angrily right back at me. "Not like--"
Heero's arms came around me from behind, wrapping around my ribs. He leaned into me, enough that I could feel his legs alongside mine, kneeling behind me. His cock nestled into the crack of my ass, and I could feel his calves alongside mine and knew he was naked. He wasn't fully hard, though, but I still focused on that sensation, barely noting his hands rising, except to flinch when he brushed against the dangling weights.
Then he yanked both clamps free.
My entire body arched, twin pokers stabbing into my chest. Pain radiated outwards and the stabbing heat shot inwards. Vaguely I realized my clenched jaw was the reason I hadn't screamed full-throated, because the pain was going right fucking through me, so fucking concentrated it had my toes curling and my hands clawing at empty air. Heero's arms were around me, holding me to him. His fingers pressed into my skin, each touch multiplying the agony until my scream warped into a sobbing cry. It was muffled somehow, competing with the blood rushing in my ears and my ragged breath and Heero's voice whispering to me.
I couldn't make out what he said, I wasn't even sure if he was saying anything. Maybe all that mattered was the timbre of his voice beating against my ear. His arms were iron-strong banding my chest, holding me in. The sting remained, dulling only a little, and when he moved one hand and came too near the centers of pain, I jerked in his arms, unable to keep from defending, so what if it was a pointless gesture.
Mindless, sightless, and again his inaudible murmurs in my ear until I stilled. I wanted to sink backwards into him, but couldn't let myself. Instead, I lowered my head, rubbing the side of my face against my arm. Hair was plastered to my forehead, my cheek. I panted open-mouthed, arm shaking and stomach quivering. My chest throbbed with each heartbeat.
Heero's hands soothed down my skin to press palms against my lower belly. If it was comfort, it was Heero's style of comfort, an odd touch I'd always associated with him. Neither sexual nor purely innocent, but steady all the same. He confused me, and he always had. Most of the time, I did have him pretty well figured out, but only at the surface. Any ordinary day, I could pretend I didn't notice. This was no ordinary day, though, and in that instant I knew if any one thing really didn't matter, that would be it.
It didn't matter if I didn't always understand him, or him me, I still didn't want this to be the end. He was a logic that made no sense, but it was a logic I needed in my life all the same.
I blinked against the darkness, swallowed, and realized he'd pulled away just enough to stroke my hair. Back to that again, were we? I coughed, struggled to clear my throat, coughed again, and something small and plastic touched my lower lip.
"Drink," Heero instructed. "It's water. Here." He guided the straw closer, and I accepted it gratefully. It was gurgling with the last few drops when he pulled the straw out of my mouth. "More in a bit," he promised.
He bent away from me, then back again, and this time when he moved around me, he stayed almost pasted to me. Legs bracketing mine, then sidling around me, chest to my ribs, until he knelt before me. His lips pressed against my jaw, down my neck, and when his body lost contact with mine, it was in a sliding motion that told me he was sitting on his ankles. His mouth stayed on me, soft kisses working down and across then back again, but avoiding the too-sensitive nipples. He licked, mouthed, kissed, bending over until his hair brushed across my skin. He turned his head and pressed his cheek to my belly.
His hands slid up my thighs, thumbs coming together just under my balls, and then up higher. One hand slid around me, until he embraced me with one arm, holding me steady. I could feel his breath across my cock, followed by his fingers, stroking me, petting me. The squeeze of the cock-rings grew as my erection returned, coaxed into strength by Heero's gentle touch. Strange, that he could bend metal, yet be so delicate when he wanted. Not that I wanted him bending any metal in the vicinity of my dick, unless it was to de-bend the metal cock rings, but... still. It was a side of him I doubted many people saw. Not that I wanted to share.
Even this, it dawned on me, even this dreadful and painful so-called meeting. It was still the two of us, and if my choice was this or nothing... well, I'd already made my choice, hadn't I? Now I just had to survive it -- and the thought nearly made me laugh, though any laughter might've sounded a little hysterical by that point if I'd let it out. Rock and a hard place, lesser of two evils, hell, my entire life had been nothing but--
And whoosh, there went any rational thought process when Heero wrapped his mouth around the end of my dick. Holy fuck, the man could give head, good enough to suck the moan right out of my lungs. I couldn't even move for fear he might stop, and I think my legs liquefied anyway when the tip of his tongue poked into my hole, pushing just a fraction, then fluttering against the tip. I think I might've said something, who knows what language, the universal language of oh fuck please don't stop--
Naturally, he stopped. I groaned, opened and closed my fists, unable to grab onto anything. I was busy collecting the scattered braincells for some proper begging when two points of pressure on my balls suddenly crystallized. Not as tight as the clamps'd been on my chest, but hardly nothing, and I threw my head back, feeling the absolute fool.
"Would you fucking stop with the goddamn clamps," I yelled, not caring if I wasn't just walking the line of proper behavior. I was throwing myself head-first over it, all over again. So much for good intentions, but hard to hold onto that in the face of little metal torture-devices being attached to my poor stretched balls. I've grown rather attached to them over the years, and if my chest was still aching, I didn't even want to think what I'd feel when he ripped those off. "Look, asshole, this isn't okay, that goddamn hurts!"
Okay, so it didn't hurt quite that much, yet, but I wasn't going to encourage him and besides, I couldn't get past the image of ending up with permanently fucked-up balls indented like the dimples on fucking golf-balls or something. His hand clapped over my mouth, muffling the rest of my complaints. I pressed my lips together instead of bite his palm, and for a moment we were both still. Waiting to see what the other would do next. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. He dropped his hand, and so much for good intentions all over again.
Annoyance flared, and I blurted, "look, what was it, twenty-five? Just do the fucking twenty-five and get it over with, stop fucking around!"
To my surprise, he just laughed and told me, "that's what I am doing."
It startled me into silence. I thought back to the strokes he'd given me during the blow-job, but couldn't recall how many there'd been. If I could've gotten a hand to my forehead, I would've been scratching in bafflement. Heero must've seen the twist to my lips, because he set a finger to my cock, and stroked down it, then touched a finger to the stretcher.
"Five," he said.
I blinked behind the blindfold. Five? Wait, four cockrings and a stretcher, that was his idea of five? His finger landed on my right nipple and I hissed at him, but he merely tapped lightly, then tapped my other nipple.
"Five, and another five makes fifteen so far," he counted.
I couldn't help it. My inner smart-ass had to say it. "How exactly did you pilot Wing when you can't even count to five?"
"Duo." Heero actually sounded disgruntled for a second, then sighed with that odd hitch that told me he was smiling. "One." He pressed his finger against my nipple, just enough to make me flinch. "Three weights. And then one more--" He lifted his finger away-- "makes five."
I was silent for a bit, until I registered what had to be his reasoning, and anger shot through my gut all over again. "You went easy on me?"
"What?" He sounded genuinely startled, but it just pissed me off all the more.
"You--" I caught myself just in time. We weren't doing this shit so I could piss him off with shit, we were doing this so he could feel like, I don't know, whatever it was he needed to know we were square again. I grabbed hold of my anger and shoved it back down, forcefully loosening my shoulders, pushing the tension into a knot in my gut. Only then did I shake my head, offer a rueful smile. "Never mind. Just..." I shrugged.
"Never mind what," Heero repeated, sounding both confused and wary.
"Look, it's not important," I snapped, self-annoyance gaining over any irritation with him. Just making things worse, damn it. I really needed to learn to stop talking.
"I think it is," he said, quietly. He wasn't touching me anymore, and I had to struggle to track him given how softly he spoke. He seemed to be moving around me, and that put me back on guard.
"Well, you're wrong. Just get back to whatever you were doing, and drop it." I started when his hand caught up my hair, then relaxed. He was only playing with it again. I gave him a looser shrug, dismissive. "It doesn't matter--"
I barely heard the whistle over my words, but I sure as fuck felt the thin slicing strip land across my upper back. It jolted me into silence. The second strike was just a fraction below the first, across my shoulderblades. Only then did my body react, arching away, skin crawling as if it could peel itself right off my body and find a corner to hide. But I'd barely moved and a third stripe landed just below the second, then a fourth below that, then a fifth. So fucking fast, all five together, that I was still drawing breath from the first and the fifth was done. I bit down, hard, strangling my shocked shout. I wanted to yell at him, lay into him for giving me no warning, but I couldn't unclench my jaw. Not when my track record was so miserable, so far, not when it'd only take three words to trigger his reactions.
Then I realized, stupidly, belatedly. It'd only take three words... as long as they were those three words. I am a fool. I prove it to myself over and over.
"Try again," Heero ordered, and I caught a soft sound I couldn't place, until a mist of cool water landed on my back. A spray bottle. He was spraying me with chilled water, not enough to drip, just enough to make the heated strips of flesh ten times hotter compared to the chilled skin between.
I shivered convulsively, my brain rattling in its bone-cage at the realization that this was a demonstration of the true difference between us. I may've learned a lot in a short time with Zorya, but Heero had three times the experience. With a simple flick of his fingers, he could prove it all over again. It was infuriating, and humbling, and a little humiliating, wondering what else he knew that I didn't, and where else I'd prove myself the amateur beside him.
Talk about old ghosts. There was one spectre I'd probably never kill. I shuddered under another spray, but he seemed to think that was enough. He played with my hair for a few seconds, catching it up, and I heard the snap of rubber. He bound it into a loose pony-tail, then caught it up into another ponytail. I couldn't quite track until he let it fall, and it didn't reach past my neck. He must've caught up the ends, folding it over. At least it wouldn't rest across the cane-stripes and abrade the heated skin, but at the same time I wasn't looking forward to the tangles I'd have to get out later. Well, fuck, nothing to do about it right then, so I let it go.
Thing was, Heero didn't seem in the mood to let anything go. "Try again," he repeated.
I took a breath, considered it, and figured if he wanted honesty, he could fucking well get honesty. "You're a goddamn asshole!" If I could've, I would've pointedly turned my back on him. Failing that, I looked in the opposite direction of where he'd last spoken. "Just because I can't wrap a two-foot iron pipe into a fucking pretzel but it doesn't mean you've got to invent some fucking screwy counting like I'm some fucking pansy-ass wimp who can't fucking take it."
"We're back to that again," he sighed.
I had to laugh, if bitterly. "That's why I said never mind, goddamnit, because it really doesn't matter--" I tensed, hesitating, but he didn't react, so I barreled onward. "Because it's not something that's gonna change. You're gonna act like I can't take it, and I could tell you I can until I'm blue in the face but it's just--" I flailed, mentally, not sure where I was going with it, because my head was pretty sure Heero didn't mean to insult me, or treat me like I wasn't up to his standards. But the rest of me knew that was the way he'd act, just the same, no matter what I said or did. "It's just--" Oh, fuck it. "It's just the way it is."
He was silent for a long stretch, but I could feel him moving around me, hear the rustling sound off to my left, then a soft clatter to my right, until finally the cushion dipped before me again. I jumped, a little, when he touched my legs, ran his fingers up, and I definitely jumped when he attached two more clamps to my balls. I managed to swallow the protest, barely. I'd pushed my luck enough already, and since I knew I'd be doing it again, I figured I had to save up while I could still think clearly.
Then two more clamps, and I wriggled, trying to back away from him. Stupid damn restraints and spreader-bars, and I got maybe two inches but he caught me and jerked me back into place. I grunted with the effort of fighting his hold, only to almost bite through my tongue when he attached one more clamp, then one more after that.
I didn't even want to think about what it looked like, because I could sure as hell feel it and it felt anything but attractive. None of the clamps were all that tight, but eight isn't a small number to have marching down, around and up again the sides of already-compacted balls. I could feel the clamps' handle-tips brushing against my thighs. Probably did the damn radiating sun pattern. I steadied myself for the inevitable tug while Heero threaded them so he could next rip them all off at once. No twiddling nor tweaking of the clamps, though. After a minute I relaxed my guard, glad of at least one small reprieve.
"Is everything fine," Heero said. We must've switched back to his planned routine while I was busy elsewhere, because he was back to that flat-question mode.
Still, I took a second to consider any traps in his phrasing. Cautious, I asked, "are we talking details here, or just life in general?"
"Yes." Heero chuckled when I made a face. "Either. Both. All of it."
I snorted. "Details, well, this clamp shit really sucks, but when you were giving me head, that was fine. Lose the gates of hell there and that'd be really great for me. Definitely in the 'finer' category."
His only answer was to attach two more clamps to the underside of my balls, completing the semi-circle. I growled, but the only thing that got me was Heero no longer touching me. He was quiet, that expectant attentive feeling in the air again, and I sighed, flexing my hands, straightening my back then rotating my arms a bit to work out the last of the cane's burn. Still he waited, until I relaxed in the hold.
"Life in general, well. No. It's not fine. It's absolutely fucked-up," I said, quietly, maybe fatalistically, but I'm nothing if not a pragmatist. "It's completely fucked-up. Yeah, so that's mostly my fault, but I don't think any of this is going to change it."
"It might," Heero replied, softly.
"It might, but it probably won't," I told him. "Don't try to do the optimist, Heero, it's not your style."
"It's a style I learned from you."
"Yeah, whatever," I snapped, frustrated. I was more than ready to move onto the next topic. "It's been out-of-style for a long fucking time now."
Heero could be hard to read at the best of times, but his tone was almost raw, maybe even hurt. "Since when?"
"Since I grew up," I told him, "and realized happy endings are nothing but a bill of goods."
"You don't believe that."
I laughed. "What I believe is beside the point. What I know is that life fucks you over, and the best you can hope for is that you get to fuck it over a bit in return."
The frown was clear in Heero's tone. "You didn't used to be so cynical."
I'd had enough. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."
"I know you as well as I can know anyone," Heero replied, firmer. "You were jaded, but not cynical."
"Same difference."
"No. It's subtle, but it's not the same at all."
"Maybe I'm not the same--" I stopped short. Had I changed? I hadn't thought so. Wasn't I the same, essentially, as I'd been at ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five? Even the wars held no massive faultlines in my memory -- they were little more than post-scripts to the martial law and rebel terrorists that had ransacked my childhood. People are flies frozen in amber. They can't change, and they don't change, not at the heart, not where it matters.
No one really changes.
Nothing ever changes.
Or does it?